"If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die."

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My forces are not enfeebled, I find no decay in my strength; my provisions are not cut off, I find no abhorring in mine appetite; my counsels are not corrupted nor infatuated, I find no false apprehensions to work upon mine understanding; and yet they see that invisibly, and I feel that insensibly, the disease prevails.

— Bill Vaughan